


Mothering Instincts

by MiladyDeWinter (Techno_Queen)



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Also keep an eye on the warnings and the tags cuz I might change those later, Anyway now we have some JackRabbit, BAMF!Jack in later chapters, Hint hint it has to do with the kits, I Don't Even Know, I never thought I'd write with a pairing but now it's happened, I've written fluffy romance, Jack is sick and no one knows why except him and he's not telling, M/M, for the first time ever, oh yes there are kits did I mention that, welp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Techno_Queen/pseuds/MiladyDeWinter
Summary: (Note: This story is discontinued, as I felt unhappy with it and wanted to rewrite/revamp it. The new and improved version is called "The Joys of Parenthood". I strongly suggest that you read that instead, as it is more coherent and understandable, and will also [hopefully] be regularly updated.)Winter spirits rarely have children, if ever. But when they do somehow have a child...there are some side effects. Some rathersharpside effects.(Or: Jack's not feeling well, Bunny doesn't know what to do, winter spirits are very protective of their children, and there are kits)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, as some of you may have noticed by now...this is a JackRabbit story. As in, Jack and Bunny are a couple. Yep, I've boarded the ship: I am now a JackRabbit shipper.
> 
> Some of you may not like this ship. That's fine. I didn't like it at first either. But, I'm giving fair warning:
> 
> If you have actually helpful opinions to offer on my writing, then I will listen to you. If you choose to criticise constructively, I will do my best to take your comments into account and improve my writing accordingly.
> 
> If, on the other hand, you choose to flame either me or this story just because you don't like the pairing...then I will laugh at you. Loudly. And with derision.
> 
> _Think of the derision, people._
> 
> With that said, let us continue.

Consciousness returned to him slowly and easily, like rose petals drifting lazily down a stream. Although normally he never spent too much time in the hazy state that existed between sleep and wakefulness, being either awake and filled with energy or slumbering like the dead, this time he allowed himself to linger on the border between the two, the grounded sensation of consciousness mingled with misty and impossible dreams.

When at last he managed to uproot himself from this nebulous state of mind, tearing himself away from the land of dreams into a world of sanity and logic, it was to find himself lying warm and comfortable in his nest at Aster’s Warren. Blinking, bleary-eyed, he realized he was not alone in his bed, a furry gray mass of love, affection, and irritable sass curled around him and holding him tight.

He grinned, uncaring of the fact that the action made him appear remarkably sappy and lovesick. True, their relationship at first had been rocky, bordering on hateful, but things had changed for the better, and when all was said and done Jack couldn’t ask for a better mate than Aster. The overgrown rabbit was rather like a chestnut burr, with a spiky exterior that belied the treasure hidden inside, and Jack was glad that he’d had the patience to crack the Pooka’s tough outer shell.

Sighing happily, the winter spirit shifted, snuggling himself further into the arms of his beloved. Aster, in turn, made a soft noise that sounded like a rumbling purr, his grip on his mate tightening briefly before the lagomorph opened his bright green eyes. 

Jack smirked, bright blue eyes dancing with Joy. “Good morning, fluffball.”

“Morning, ya larrikin.” The nickname, while potentially insulting in certain situations, lacked its usual bite, and Jack saw it for the endearment it was meant to be. 

Still smiling jauntily, the frost spirit leaned in and lightly kissed Bunny on the nose. “How’re you doing?”

“She’s apples,” yawned Bunny. He stretched, bones cracking, before turning his concerned emerald gaze on Jack. “How ’bout you? Are ya still nauseous?”

Jack’s smile faltered briefly, as the memories returned in full force. He’d been horribly ill last night, suffering painful cramps that were accompanied by dizzying nausea. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to avoid vomiting up his internal organs, with how sick he had been.

As quickly as it had floundered, however, his smile returned full force. “I’m fine now, Bunnyroo.”

Aster hummed thoughtfully. “That’s good ta hear. Do ya know what caused it? The illness, I mean?”

Jack felt his breath halt in his throat. He knew fully well what had caused his sudden lapse in health, knew why he was suffering so and how he would suffer in the future, but just as certainly as he was aware of this, so he realized that he couldn’t tell Aster, not if he wanted the Pooka to stay with him.

His throat felt tight, even as he forced lightheartedness into his voice. “Not in the slightest, Bun-Bun.”

Aster frowned, and Jack felt slightly guilty for the way he was lying to his mate. He was making Aster worry, but he had to do this.

He didn’t want a repeat of what had happened last time.

Eventually, the Pooka seemed to drop the subject, clambering out of the nest of dried grass and worn fabric, joints creaking with the weight of millenia. Jack would always be shocked at how old the Guardian of Hope was, the lagomorph having been around since the shaping of the continents, his own paltry three centuries like a fleck of sand compared to the desert that was Aster’s millions. 

The rabbit stretched again, fur ruffling, before he began to make his way out of the room. “Going to go check on the eggs.”

And without further ado, he was gone.

Jack burrowed himself deeper under the blankets and sighed. He should feel relieved that his secret was still kept hidden, buried under lies that he had carefully crafted, but instead he just felt sick and ill at ease. His stomach churned warningly as his anxiety increased, as guilt clawed at his insides, and with effort he pushed it back down.

He was doing what was necessary, for himself, his mate, and the kits. 

Dimly, he felt himself slipping back into sleep.

~=~

Aster gently laid his paw against the surface of one of the trio of eggs, smiling as he felt the pulse of new life underneath the brittle shell. Life that he and Jack had helped to create.

The story of the eggs was a curious one indeed. Three months prior, the Man in the Moon had gifted Bunnymund three Pooka eggs. Where he had gotten the eggs from Bunny hadn’t a clue, for he had thought that he was the absolute last Pooka in the entire universe, but he hadn’t been about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and had gladly accepted the responsibility of taking care of the eggs.

Except, things hadn’t quite gone so smoothly. One attack from Pitch later, and the eggs had been smashed, pieces of shell littered about, life destroyed before it had been given a chance to truly live.

He’d been heartbroken, and then Jack had saved the day. Ridiculous, irresponsible Jack, who’d been fully prepared to save the kits, to pour his life-force into the three eggs, to rescue three lives in exchange for his own. The drongo had nearly succeeded, as well, and it was only a well-timed intervention from Aster that had prevented the winter spirit from killing himself.

Instead of one spirit bearing the whole burden, Aster had decided to share the weight with Jack.

Together, they had managed to save the unhatched kits, both pouring life into the broken shells, and in the process they had bound their magic to that of the kits. The kits were no longer the same, now formed of a mix of Aster and Jack’s magic.

The kits were practically their _children._

Thanks to Jack, life now thrummed freely within the shells that protected the kittens. Thanks to Jack, the world would soon see three beautiful Pooka kits, each bearing both the power of spring and of winter.

Thanks to Jack, Aster was a father, and the Pooka would always be eternally grateful to his little mate.

Now, if only he could figure out what the bloody hell was wrong with the larrikin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take into account that this is my first time writing for this pairing, so this story may be a little clunky at first...
> 
> ...Thoughts?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was easier to write than the first one, but I'm still having some trouble handling the dynamics of Jack and Bunny's relationship (it's the first time I've ever written for this pairing, so...). Thus, please be so kind as to excuse any OOC-ness or clunky writing you may find.
> 
> Also, good to see you all again. I'm floored by how many of you liked the first chapter (thank you for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks, you're all the best), and I hope you like this one as well.
> 
> Enjoy.

Pale hands held a dish and a washcloth, working to reduce the enormous pile of dirty dishes that had somehow formed a cabal on the counter-top. Normally, the kitchen would be spick-and-span with the winter spirit around, but winter had only recently ended, and during the chilly season Jack had had little time to spare to take care of his mate. During his absence, things at the Warren had gone more or less to the dogs, for Aster was terrible at taking care of himself, especially this close to Easter. 

Another dish was removed from the pile of dirty ones, nimble fingers rubbing at it with a soapy sponge before rinsing it in the sink. So used was Jack to the movements that his mind was currently miles away as his hands did the chore almost on autopilot.

Jack was thinking, a pastime that rarely ended well for anyone involved. When Jack thought, one of two things tended to happen: either his brainstorming would end in someone suffering the mother of all pranks, or he would work himself into a pit of black depression.

This time, it was the latter.

The dish was laid to the side, where it was added to the growing Leaning Tower of Pisa that was forming at the winter spirit’s right, and another dirty one was separated from its companions within the Cabal of Darkness. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. The nausea, the vertigo, the persistent itching at his fingertips and in his gums...they brought back memories. Painful memories. Memories he had thought long buried, never to be thought about again. He had believed, foolishly, that he’d never need to remember them, had been certain that nothing would induce him to fall in love again, let alone to have a child. At the time, it had seemed preposterous.

Fat lot of good that did him now. He was back at square zero, stuck in a corner he didn’t want to be in, with no way out but the path of thorns he knew so well. History would repeat itself, as it was wont to do, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

The clean dish was put aside in exchange for a dirty one, and Jack sighed. How long would this idyllic life of his last? At the beginning, he’d thought that nothing could separate Aster and him, that he would live out the rest of his immortal life at Aster’s side. Now, with the arrival of the kits on the horizon, he wasn’t quite so sure anymore. 

...Why did he even do this to himself? He’d given himself sound and solid advice: never love someone again, for it will only hurt him. Why, then, had he ignored this sane and reasonable guidance in favour of pursuing a romance that would only end in tears and heartbreak? For it would surely end that way, there was no doubt about it, not with the way things were.

There was, after all, a reason that winter spirits so rarely had children. A very, very good reason.

The dish, now clean, was put away, and another filled its place. He was nearly finished with exterminating the Cabal of Darkness and Despondency, for at most ten dishes were left to be converted to the Side of the Light. Before long, the huge backlog that had collected during Jack’s absence would be exterminated, and then he could afford to take it easy for a little while.

Somehow, the thought did not comfort him. Chores did not suit the young spirit, his flighty nature preventing him from finding any enjoyment in the task, but they kept his mind off of the memories and the pessimistic musings. Once the workload eased off slightly, it wouldn’t be long before he worked himself into a depressive funk so deep that the Mariana Trench would pale in comparison. 

Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that he wasn’t a winter spirit. Maybe if he’s been something else, like a summer spirit or even one of the fae, then the past wouldn’t be filled with shadows and dead regrets, and the present wouldn’t be spoiled by dreads and apprehensions regarding the future.

Ha. And while he was about it, he wished for a pony. 

Scoffing at his own idiocy, the young man set about finishing the remainder of the dishes. Once he was done with them, he would wipe down the counter-top, for it was sorely in need of cleaning, and afterwards he would rearrange the interior of the kitchen cabinets, for they were surely a mess by now. Aster had a bad habit of storing paintbrushes, paint tins, and paint-encrusted cloths in every available corner, from drawers and cabinets to the bathroom sink.

Sometimes, Jack wondered how Aster had survived so long without him. Goodness knew the Pooka took little to no care of himself, especially this close to his precious holiday…

Speaking of which, where was the overgrown rabbit? He ought to be finished with planting by now. 

As if on cue, the wooden door to the kitchen swung open, and the Pooka in question walked in. “Hello, Jackie.”

“Hey, Cottontail,” he grinned, blue eyes shining. “How’s it hanging?”

“Not too shabby. Planting went well, should be full grown in a few weeks,” the Pooka stretched, joints cracking. “How about you?”

“Rather well, I should say. I’ve nearly defeated the Cabal of Darkness and Despondency that accumulated on your counter,” Jack said with a flourish directed at the nearly empty space, where hours before there had been a massive pile of dishes that had nearly reached the ceiling.

“That’s nice, Jack. Thank you,” smiled the Pooka, before his expression changed to one of worry. “But ya shouldn’t be working so hard if yer still not feeling well. Ya haven’t been feelin’ nauseous again, have ya?”

Jack waved off the concern with one pale hand. “I’m _fine_ , Kangaroo. Besides, we both know that if I didn’t do this, the Cabal of Darkness and Despondency would overtake your entire Warren within the year.”

Aster, predictably, bristled. “I’ll have ya know that I’m perfectly capable of doin’ my own dishes, thank you.”

“Oh?” said Jack in mock disbelief, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Then I suppose that this nice little den of yours _wasn’t_ inundated with a layer of dust three feet deep when I first moved in?”

“Well--”

“Or that there weren’t paint splatters staining everything? And I mean everything.”

“Not everything--”

“Your bathtub was stained purple, Aster. Purple. Do you know how hard that was to remove?”

Aster spluttered incoherently. “I know how ta take care of myself, ya gumby.”

“I’m not saying you don’t,” said Jack placatingly, even though he totally was. “I’m just saying that you don’t do it in the most hygienic or healthy way, is all.”

Aster frowned before his green eyes took on a mischievous look. “Right. Says the drongo who regularly sleeps in trees and snowbanks.”

It was now Jack’s turn to stammer. “That’s...that’s not fair, Bun-bun.”

“Oh?” said Bunny, mimicking Jack’s dubious tone of a moment ago. “Then what about yer nasty habit of not sleeping until ya drop?”

Mildly outraged, Jack opened his mouth to issue a retort, when suddenly the world turned upside down.

~=~

The attack of vertigo was sudden, so sudden that he visibly staggered, his fingers scrabbling instinctively at the counter-top in order to both ground and support himself. He hissed as the world swayed and spun around him, bile rising in his throat as the nausea intensified.

Aster, bless him, was at his side within scant seconds, his furry paw grabbing at Jack’s upper arm in an attempt to steady the younger spirit. He saved his inquiries for later, allowing Jack his time to recompose himself without the panicked questioning to overwhelm him.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Jack’s breathing shallow as he struggled to recover, his eyes tightly shut as they blocked out the spinning world around them. Aster’s heart lurched at the sight, unease clawing at his chest, as he racked his brain to try and figure out why Jack was so unwell. It was obvious that there was more to this than Jack was letting on.

Still, he quenched the desire to demand that Jack explain, instead waiting patiently for the winter spirit to open his eyes. Once they fluttered open, glazed and hazy, he gently asked if Jack wanted to lie down for a bit.

The weak nod from his mate was more than enough for the Guardian of Hope, and he carefully led Jack outside the kitchen and into the living room, helping the younger spirit to the sofa that stood in the middle of the room.

Jack practically collapsed onto the sofa, falling asleep within moments, and Aster directed one last concerned glance at the slumbering spirit before quietly leaving the room.

It was about time he checked on the eggs again, anyway.

~=~

_“You are disgusting.”_

_No. No, no, no. He’d prayed and hoped he’d never have to hear that oily voice again._

_Heart beating in his mouth, he turned around._

_A figure made of shadows glared at him, its body fluid and undefinable, the only distinguishable part of it being the cold silver-gold eyes that stared him down. The mere sight of it made his skin crawl and his heart race, made memories rush to mind. Recollections that he believed to be long buried, never to resurface, now reawakened. Old scars that had laid dormant for years alighted anew, reminding him of the pain he’d experienced, the loss he had felt, the self-hatred and the despair he had endured._

_He backed away._

_“You’ll never escape me, Jack.”_

_Go away. Just go away. Please, for the love of MiM, just go away._

_“I’ll always be here.”_

_Go away._

_“Forever.”_

_Just go away._

_“And ever.”_

_Please go away._

_“And ever.”_

_Stop it._

_“...Don’t you love me, Jack?”_

_The words hung in the misty air for what seemed like an eternity, echoing in his mind, and it was a long while before he found the will to speak. When he did, though, it was with shaky defiance in his voice._

_“No,” he rasped. “I don’t love you. I never did, and I never will.”_

_Silence._

_Then, he was falling down, down, down, the darkness consuming him, never to allow him to see the light of day again._

_And he screamed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	3. In Memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bunny finds out what's wrong with Jack, Jack remembers someone he lost, and this effing story finally starts to move forward. For realsies this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Why do you smile  
> Like you have told a secret  
> Now you're telling lies  
> 'Cause you have sworn to keep it  
> But no one keeps a secret  
> No one keeps a secret  
> Why when we do our darkest deeds  
> Do we tell?  
> They burn in our brains  
> Become a living hell  
> 'Cause everybody tells  
> Everybody tells...
> 
> Got a secret  
> Can you keep it?  
> Swear this one you'll save  
> Better lock it in your pocket  
> Taking this one to the grave  
> If I show you then I know you  
> Won't tell what I said  
> 'Cause two can keep a secret  
> If one of them is dead"--"Secret" by The Pierces

The day that Jack kicked him out of the Warren was the day when Bunny began to Worry.

Oh, he’d been worried before, but now it was ten times worse. Jack had deteriorated rapidly, to the point where the winter spirit was a mess of hormones, exhaustion, nausea, and pain, and Bunny was concerned out of his mind. Hell, Jack could barely get out of bed in the morning now, Bunny had to take over the duty of chores from the sick spirit.

What bothered Bunny even more, however, was Jack’s mood. The young man was normally very composed and laid back, sometimes snipping at people when they went too far, but never outright raging at anyone. Now, however, Jack’s temper hung by threads at a time, and although the winter spirit did try to keep a tight rein on his anger, sometimes he would lash out at seemingly inconsequential triggers.

Like today. Bunny had tried to get Jack to open up regarding what was troubling the Guardian of Fun (because blast it, Jack obviously knew exactly what was going on, otherwise he wouldn’t be this unconcerned about his health), and after prodding a little too hard for Jack’s liking, the winter spirit had practically _shoved_ Aster out of the Warren using nothing but the wrathful power of his voice.

(Although maybe the icy-cold glare had something to do with that as well. Angry Jack was apparently also scary Jack, and Aster was not one to pick fights unnecessarily.)

It was for these reasons that Bunny was currently hunting down the one being who might be able to help him. He may not be on good terms with her, but she was the only one who would likely know what was wrong with Jack, and all else paled in comparison to the importance of finding out if his mate would be all right.

Problem was, Mother Nature could be terribly hard to find when she wanted to be.

Especially when her home kept changing location.

Huffing, the rabbit reared up on his hind legs for what seemed like the hundredth time as he scanned the horizon for anything that looked even remotely like Mother Nature’s realm. The grass-covered meadow was surprisingly empty, however, with nothing but a few lone bison scattered about.

Ignoring the persistent chant in his mind of _EASTER! EASTER IS COMING!_ , the rabbit tapped his foot against the ground, opening a tunnel before leaping through it. Though it looked like it, his search method was not entirely random, for he could sense the regions that contained an abundance of Life, and Mother Nature’s realm was one such region.

Unfortunately, it was also the only one that kept moving around whenever he tried to pinpoint its location. Hence why he’d been going around in circles for the past four hours.

Well, this was it. He had officially lost his patience. Emily Jane may hate him, but he needed her help, and Moon above he would get it.

He shivered, only partly because of the cold, as he finally climbed out of the tunnel, emerging in a deserted snow-covered landscape. He always felt nervous around large open spaces, instinct urging him to find cover somewhere at the earliest opportunity. 

Unwilling to stay there longer than absolutely necessary, the Pooka didn’t even bother trying to look for Mother Nature, throwing all common courtesy to the winds as he raised his voice. “Oi, Emily Jane, I need ta talk ta ya! It’s about Jack!”

There were a few long moments of utter silence, and Bunny’s ears drooped. Sighing, the lagomorph tapped the ground with one foot, mentally preparing himself for more hours of trying to find the evasive spirit. 

Before he could leap through the tunnel that resulted, however, a voice like a winter’s storm spoke from behind him.

“Greetings, Bunnymund. I take it you have a concern regarding my winter spirit?”

~=~

He had his boomerangs in his hands before he even fully turned around, his warrior instincts coming into play without any conscious input of his own. Luckily, however, Mother Nature simply seemed amused at his display of belligerence, and made no comment as he put the weapons away with an embarrassed look on his face.

Mother Nature was an extraordinary spirit in her own right, immensely powerful and beautiful. She was tall, with long black hair that seemed to flow in a nonexistent breeze, and a long, yet lovely face. Her high rank in the spirit world was made evident by her regal air, as of a proud and haughty queen.

Yet despite all this, she had a slightly dangerous aura to her. She was the queen of the harsh winds, the cruel heat, the blistering cold, and the deadly lightning; the ruler of treacherous powers and violent forces. This tremendous power showed in her manner and bearing, and was enough to make even Bunny’s fur stand on end. 

Nature was not always kind, after all, and Emily Jane was far from predictable.

If there was one thing Bunny could count upon, however, it was Emily Jane’s feelings for one Jack Frost. With no children of her own, the Queen Mother of Nature had practically adopted the winter spirit (as well as almost every other nature spirit) as her own child, and she cared about him with a fervour that was almost ridiculous. There was a reason, after all, that she was referred to as ‘Mother’ by most of the nature spirits around the world.

Emphasis on ‘most’. Emily Jane would probably murder him if Bunny ever called her ‘Mother’. Not that he was willing to put that particular theory into practice, however.

Maintaining eye contact with the green-eyed woman, Bunny bowed reverently. He was not eager to displease the monarch in any way, both because he wanted to keep his limbs (he liked having both his arms, thank you very much), and because he had to find out what was wrong with Jack. “Good afternoon, Yer Grace.”

Mother Nature returned the gesture, inclining her head and upper back forward slightly before returning to her ramrod-straight pose. “Good afternoon, my Envoy. It has been a long time since I last saw you.”

 _Not long enough_ , Bunny mused as he eyed her cautiously. 

The young woman continued, her eyes glinting with an emotion that Bunny couldn’t immediately identify. “But that is beside the point. I have little time at my disposal, Bunnymund, so I suggest you be swift with your inquiries. Pray, what is new with my winter spirit?”

Bunny thought back, to the nightmares, to the fainting, to memories of Jack vomiting into the kitchen sink. “It’s...Jack’s ill, Yer Grace.”

“In what way?”

“He’s all around bad, Yer Grace. He’s nauseous a good deal, though he tries to play it off as nothin’, and he faints sometimes. He’s tired a lot, doesn’t eat, gets migraines...it’s a whole list.”

Emily Jane looked intrigued. “Indeed?”

“Yep. And worst of all, he’s been gettin’...”

Emily Jane egged him on when he trailed off. “What?”

“Nightmares. Almost every night.”

Silence.

Then, laughter.

Bunny stared as Mother Nature dissolved into a fit of laughter that seemed to make the heavens shake. Her thin shoulders shook with spasms of mirth and her long fingers twitched, yet somehow she still managed to uphold her appearance of decorum. 

When at last she calmed down, eyes tearing up, Bunny saw fit to demand an explanation from the sovereign. “And just what is so funny?”

“Nothing, Bunnymund. Only Jack is in no danger.”

“If he’s in no danger, then why is he like this?”

The suzerain smiled. “It is simple enough, Bunnymund. But, as this conversation will likely take longer than expected, would you care for some tea? I must return to my realm in order to cancel a few appointments, and I have no wish to be deemed an improper host.”

~=~

 

Mother Nature’s Empire was beauteous in much the same way that a serpent, or perhaps a tigress, was. Savagery was mixed in equal parts with delicacy, danger intertwined with charm, and Bunny’s fingers were fair itching to grab a pen and sketchpad, if only to attempt to capture the aura of the place on paper.

He resisted the urge, however, instead accepting the steaming cup of chamomile tea with a respectful incline of the head. Mother Nature was swift to seat herself, the two of them perched on chairs that seemed to be made of vines, with nothing but a table of thorns between them.

The monarch was first to speak, breaking the silence with the sound of her bell-like voice. “I must apologize for my loss of control, Bunnymund. Normally, there is little humour to be found in the concern of a spirit for their spouse’s health. But, as you have probably gathered already, Jack is no ordinary spouse.”

Bunny huffed. “Not on yer nelly. Jack isn’t ‘ordinary’, not in any sense of the word.”

Emily Jane smiled cryptically as she took a sip of her hibiscus tea. “Indeed he isn’t. Do you happen to know why that is?”

Bunny stared blankly. “Well, he’s...he’s Jack! He wouldn’t _be_ Jack if he weren’t as unpredictable as one of yer thunderstorms.”

“You are not incorrect,” replied Emily Jane. “But you are not entirely correct either. Jack’s oddness is much due to his unique personality. It is even more due, however, to his race.”

“Ya mean his place as a winter spirit?”

“Spirit of Winter,” Mother Nature corrected. “And yes.”

Bunny furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “What does Jack’s race hafta do with his nature?”

“Everything and nothing, Bunnymund. Jack is, after all, not your typical winter spirit. When seen from a physiological standpoint, however, there are certain aspects of winter spirits that are impossible for even him to ignore.”

Bunny gawped. “But Jack is nothin’ like the other winter spirits!”

“You are wrong, Bunnymund. They are subtle, but the influences of his race are there. For instance, have you ever seen your spouse when in a confrontation with another spirit?”

Numerous times. There were many idiots who liked to harass Jack for being ‘a piece of winter filth’. “Yes.”

“And in such occasions, what does he remind you of?”

He thought back to one such time, and frowned. It hadn’t been obvious at the time, but the way Jack loomed over the other spirit, the way he seemed to almost stalk the other, the way he’d grinned in such a manner as to bare all of his suddenly sharp-looking teeth...”A wolf.”

“Exactly. A wolf. Each of the seasons are associated with one animal, one creature that suits them to perfection. Spring has robins, summer has lions, autumn has owls, and winter...winter is the wolf.”

“That proves nothin’.”

“Doesn’t it? Then allow me to educate you further. What are Jack’s strong points in a fight, if you do not count magic?”

Bunny considered briefly. “He’s not particularly strong, but he’s quick on his feet. Agile. Hard ta catch. Once ya catch him, though, he’s done for.”

“Pre _cise_ ly. Another trait that he shares with the other winter spirits. As a rule, winter spirits are not known for their physical prowess, but they are agile and swift. Like a wolf, they have a habit of avoiding their enemy instead of meeting them head on, preferring to leap in, deal a blow, and then run out of the way of their opponent’s retribution, before repeating the process.”

 _Just like Jack._ “I see yer point. But what does this hafta do with his illness?”

“Only that it is normal among winter spirits, a condition that is specific to their species,” Mother Nature sipped her tea again. “I take it that you are soon to be a father?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, yes. That would explain it.”

Bunny gritted his teeth, fed up with Emily Jane’s cryptic comments. “Explain _what_?”

“Jack’s illness, of course,” another sip. “Tell me, have you ever heard of the _Modir Ventrar_?”

“The what now?”

“...I’ll take that as a no. _Modir Ventrar_ is a term that refers to a winter spirit who is a parent. The occurrence is rare and special enough that parenting winter spirits have been given a name of their own.”

You learn something new every day, apparently. “Really?” 

“Really. Your Jack is quite special,” Emily Jane smirked proudly. “However, this rarity leads to certain...problems.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. With the growing scarcity of winter children, winter spirits have evolved to be more and more protective of their young, to the point where they would commit murder to keep their child safe.”

Bunny stared. “Yer _joking_.”

“Far from it. A _Modir_ is essentially the ‘mother bear’ of the spirit world. So defensive is it of its young that winter spirits have been banned from mating amongst each other, for if two _Maedur_ were to be the parents of one child, then there is a strong risk that the two would rip each other to pieces in an effort to keep the young one safe, and the child would be left an orphan.”

Bunny put his tea down, head spinning. “And you say that Jack is a... _Modir_?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why he’s been feelin’ crook?”

“Yes. His body is undergoing some physical changes, and it is taking him a while to adjust. I suggest you try not to irritate him, he has enough to deal with as it is.”

Bunny slowly rose from the chair, feeling lightheaded. “Thank ya fer yer help, Queen Mother.”

“My pleasure, Bunnymund. Though if I may, a word of advice?”

“Yes?”

Emily Jane gave a grin that was downright evil. “For the next few weeks, I suggest you avoid any major displays of affection towards Jack. During their adjustment period, newly-fledged _Maedur_ can be quite passionate in their lovemaking, and if you wish to remain unneutered then you would do well to ignore any attempts Jack may make to lead you into the bedroom.”

Bunny could feel the skin of his face and neck heating up. “...Right. I’ll bear that in mind.”

“You do that.”

Still blushing, Bunny opened a tunnel and leapt though it, the jangling sound of Emily Jane’s laughter ringing behind him.

~=~

It was dark in the Warren, the place wrapped in the grasp of twilight.

Jack liked the twilight. Day was fun, but sometimes he craved silence, and twilight brought peace that wasn’t tainted by the oppressive darkness of night. 

If he remembered correctly, it had been Her favourite time of day as well.

The winter spirit lounged by the gently flowing dye river, doing his best to ignore the itching of his skin, his brain for once free of the continual buzzing of thoughts that so often plagued it. Almost subconsciously, he reached inside his hoodie pocket, drawing out a locket on a glittering chain.

The locket was made of a silvery metal, untouched by colour, and its surface was polished by use, frequent contact with the metal preventing it from rusting. The chain was made of clear ice, and the locket had hinges that allowed it to open.

He pried the two halves apart, using his fingernails to separate them, and the locket swung open to reveal two pictures.

One was scratched and dirtied beyond recognition, the marks of black permanent marker obscuring forever the image that lay beneath. He had defiled it himself, unwilling to look any longer at the picture of the man who had destroyed his life, had killed the one thing most dear to him.

The other, however, was in excellent condition, with not a single dent to mar the surface of the portrait. The picture in question showed a young girl, with pale skin and even paler hair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She looked like a female version of Jack himself, the only differences lying in her too-high cheekbones and her silver-gold eyes.

He brushed a thumb over the portrait, before digging his fingers into the space between the edge of the photo and the rim of the locket, prying the picture free of its prison. He turned it over, careful of its fragility, and smiled wistfully as he read the inscription written on the back of the image.

_Taz, beloved daughter._

_1907–1968_

_May she forever rest in peace._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...This is my first time writing for Emily Jane...like literally my first time. How'd I do?
> 
> Also, for those of you wondering: _Modir Ventrar_ is (slightly bastardized) Icelandic for "Mother of Winter". And _Maedur_ is the plural of _Modir_. So.
> 
> The reason Mother Nature calls Bunny her "Envoy" is because Bun-bun is the Envoy of Spring. Because as much as I wanted to, calling Bunny the 'Bun King' would have been completely inappropriate for this story. So 'Envoy of Spring'
> 
> Also LOOK AT TAZ'S YEAR OF DEATH THAT IS IMPORTANT
> 
> VERY IMPORTANT.
> 
> ...Thoughts?


End file.
